


Hiraeth

by Anonymous



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Date Rape, Emotional Manipulation, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Somnophilia, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kimkmeme promptKrennic has always wanted Galen - at one point they used to be lovers? But now Galen's back working for the Empire he definitely isn't giving Krennic any chances.So Krennic makes his own chances whenever they're on the same station: he has a sleep gas pumped in through the air vents, then goes in when he knows Galen is helpless and pliant, sprawling unconscious, and Krennic fucks him desperately, leaving fingerprint bruises on Galen's hips, his cum dripping from Galen's ass or coating his tongue or sliding down his face.It isn't enough. He knows Galen hates him. But he'll take what he can get, because he doesn't know how not to.Hiraeth a longing for a home you can't return to, or one that was never yours. not necessarily a house, but a homely feeling such as love.





	Hiraeth

The door opens silently and the light from the corridor spills into the gloom. Sprawled across his sheets, unconscious and limp, Galen lies, vulnerable. His limbs are loose and relaxed and his breathing is deep and even.

Orson hovers in the doorway for a moment wrestling with his conscience, he loves Galen, has done since he first laid eyes on him all those years ago. He loved him through school and when he met Lyra, and even when he drew away from Orson to have a family life with the woman. He'd still loved Galen, he had loved him, because he hadn't been able to help himself and despite everything he's not been able to stop.

Since he arrived on the base, Galen has ignored him, hasn't so much as looked at him. Orson could take anger, could mould the fury of Galen's grief, but he cannot take this dreadful silence. He's been loved by Galen, he could be loathed by him, but he cannot be nothing to him. He simply cannot.

After weeks of silence, watching and waiting for the softening of Galen’s demeanour, it had gradually dawned on him that Galen was never going to come to him. Not on his own.

For a while Orson had raged, the misery of being separated from his love by a few feet more agonizing than being separated by galaxies.

He swung between furious anger and tears. Destructive and melancholy by turns. One moment destroying his quarters and the next sobbing on his knees under the harsh lights of the fresher.

Eventually he realised that Galen still needed him as much as he ever had, why else was he growing thin and haggard? His misery was all too obvious and in his anger Galen hadn't seen that hurting Orson was merely hurting himself.

Orson would never permit harm to come to Galen.

This was all just a cry for help, Galen was causing the cry for help and Orson would go to him.

He knows what he has to do, he needs to make Galen let him in. That's all Galen needs to trust him again, he needs someone in his corner.

So he slides into the room, and let's the door slide soundlessly closed behind him. The light is extinguished, and Galen disappears into the darkness of the night. Against all logic his heart rate picks up at the loss.

He shuffles forwards, until his knees touch the bed, and then he gropes forwards until his hands touch Galens skin.

Warm, firm, and much missed under his fingers.

Orson reaches over, and fumbles until he finds he bedside light, it takes him a moment to illuminate it. Warm light arcs across the room and lights Galens sleeping face.

So deeply asleep the lines on his face have softened, and he looks carefree, young, soft. Orson feels a rush of protectiveness and love so strongly that it hurts, his breath hitches around it and he has to steady himself. He hates that he loves Galen so much, that he allows Galen this power over him. Galen is an asset of the Empire and beneath him in every regard. He has no business ignoring Orson, he shouldn't be teasing Orson with his presence, enticing him with old memories. But under all that there is the a fierce thrill, he had sworn when Galen had left with Lyra and the child that he would get him back. Even if it had taken him the rest of his life he would get Galen Erso back where he belonged.

And now he is, Orson thinks as he climbs onto the mattress, he's where he belongs, under me.

The feeling of Galen's body, warm and inviting is so good, so missed that he feels a rush of homesickness, despite being where he wants to be.

He leans down and buries his face into the crook of Galen’s neck, the delicious spot where neck meets shoulder. The spot he knows is so sensitive for Galen, a mere graze of teeth across the curve of his tendons can cause the most delightful of whimpers.

Galen is silent now, and still, between their bodies Orson can feel his heart beating beneath his ribs and it is a comfort. The dosage of the drugs had been correct. Galen is unconscious and unaware but not in any danger.

Free to refamiliarize himself, Orson noses along and breathes in the warm, sleepy scent of Galen. He feels the tug in his groin at the long absent smell of his lover.

His groin throbs and he presses into the warmth of Galen's form through the thin sheet that covers him. His body reacts to Galens presence, and he's fully hard from the mere nearness. He'd been aroused from the moment he'd entered the room, but now he aches.

He peels away the sheets and reveals Galen's slim body, Galen is wearing an old shirt and a pair of shorts. His legs are splayed as he sleeps, and his long, feet are white against the slight tan of his legs and the dark murk of his sheets. Orson eases the shirt up, and runs a single finger over the bare strip of flesh he reveals. His whole body twitches with excitement at the sight of Galen’s skin. Blood pools in his groin, and his head feels light.

At the lack of reaction, he grows bolder and pulls the shirt up higher, revealing a rosy nipple and he cannot help, but lean down and lave his tongue over that little nub. He sucks it into his mouth, before opening his lips and panting against the soft skin of Galen's chest.

He can't stop his hips from rutting against Galen, cannot prevent himself from dragging his cock across the line of Galen's thigh. Panting harshly now, he drags Galen's shorts down the barest inch, and presses a hot open mouthed kiss onto the bare hip bone that he reveals.

Desire rises up, hot and heady, thick as wine in his veins, and he drags his mouth across Galens pelvis towards his cock, tugging the shorts down as he goes. He can't bare to take his mouth of Galen's body even for a second.

As soon as he has dragged down Galen's shorts far enough to reveal his plump, pink cock, Orson can feel his mouth watering as he stares at the object of his desire filled fantasies for so long. Licking his lips, he brushes his lips over the nestled cock, tucked between its owner's thighs. With every pass of his lips, he can feel his hips twitch and his abdominal muscles tick. His breathing goes ragged as his mind blanks, but for the twin needs raging through him. To get his mouth on Galen and to be buried inside Galen’s warmth, sliding into the tightness of his body. To be home at last.

Getting Galen's cock into his mouth, feels like everything he's been missing these past few years. The weight, the taste of Galen hasn't changed despite the passage of time and he groans around the limp member in his mouth. For a few moments he savours this homecoming, let's the weight of Galen loll on his tongue as he swallows gently around the length, feeling Galen plump and firm a little on his tongue. He impales his mouth harder and deeper as Galen thickens, the heady rush of _rightness_ a potent drug.

Need pulls at him though and his own length strains at his slacks, he grins the heel of his palm into his groin and moans at the exquisite friction. His eyes rolling and his mouth dropping open to pant hot and heavy against Galens spit dampened flesh.

He kneels up and strips the shorts off Galens body, dumping them beside the bed, before stroking the inside of Galen's thigh, edging higher and higher until his fingers rest on the crease of his thigh, just at the joining of Galen's leg to his body. He couldn't stop his fingers drifting towards Galen hole of his life had depended upon it.

He rubs his fingers over Galen's hole, it's tight and furled, still pink and just as _pretty_ as he remembers. Orson spits, and rubs at the entrance to Galens body watching as his fingertip just dips downwards before the tension of Galen's muscle keeps him out. He drags a tube of lube out of his pocket with his free hand and squirts a healthy amount over his fingers and starts to work it into the skin.

Despite the cool gel, and the probing from fingers Galens body stays lax, and quiet.

Orson ignores the stark differences, and pressures his fingers deeper, his whole body jerking under the force of his arousal as his fingers pass the resistance of Galen's rim, and slide painfully slowly into the sucking tightness of his body.

Orson pants harder, all the blood leaving his brain in a rush as he looks at Galens hole stretching around his fingers.

In a rush he pulls then out, unable to wait even a second longer, fumbling with his trousers and pulling out his own length. It's almost purple with need, and precome is beading at the tip, he stokes another squirt of lube down over his length. His hips buck helplessly into the pressure of his fingers, and he has to press down harshly at the base of his dick, afraid that he might spill.

Crisis averted, he takes a few steadying breaths, then rubs the head of his cock against Galen, sliding it between his buttocks, watching as his length appears and disappears. His control snaps, it's such a visceral thing that he almost hears it go, and he jerks his hips forwards rutting helplessly against Galens opening. Pushing himself inside, and then deeper and deeper. His back arches, and his eyes roll into his head, his can't hear or see, every sense locked down to the feeling of Galen's inner walls clamped tightly around him. The pleasure brings tears to his eyes and as his hips meet flush with Galens he lets out a choked sob at the idea that he'd nearly lost this. He looks down, and nearly comes at the sight, it's so wonderful it should be sacred, of Galen's hole stretched tightly, a thin pink line around his length. He runs a finger over where they are joined, and tries to burn the image into his memory.

He’d meant to take it slowly, to ease his way into the other body, and sneak away again. He knows that Galen needs this, need him, he just can't admit it not yet. But being inside him, the feel of him, the smell of him, and Orson can't hold back, he thrusts hard, skin slapping into Galen's. He gathers Galen's legs up, and manipulates the other's body so he can slide even deeper. His body remembers this, and his mind is exalting. Panting and sweating he fucks into Galen's slack body with everything he has, pouring his grief, his angry and his misery out into the other man's body when he comes, his fingers tight against Galen's bony hips.

For a moment he remains pressed into Galen, his body pumping out everything it has to offer, and he can't bring himself to pull out. He waits, nestled against Galen until he softens and eventually slips free.

Shaking he presses a kiss to Galens lips, wanting to drag the other to his chest, and never let him go, but forcing himself to wait. He must let Galen come to him.

Like a frightened stray cat, Galen must seek out his touch, he must remain indifferent until Galen makes that crucial move.

He can't stop himself from gathering up Galen's shorts and tucking them into his pocket as he tucks himself away.

He leaves then, slips out of the door, quiet as a shadow and doesn't look back, he leaves Galen, shirt rucked up, lower half bare, his come oozing out of his well fucked hole.

When he gets back to his room, he shuts the door, locks it and pull out his trophy. He raises it to his nose and inhales. Savouring the scent that is clean skin and laundry powder and pure Galen.

He sleeps with them under his pillow and wakes early to sleep in late and dream of Galen, to rerun the night before in his mind's eye.

When he eventually gets up, to take the evening shift, he makes himself stick to his normal patterns, he meets with his Officers has coffee in the mess, goes down to the handover meeting and listens to the days figures.

It's only then that he heads down to engineering.

It's better than he could ever have hoped.

Galen sits alone, his eyes are red rimmed, and sore. When he sees Orson relief lights up in his eyes, and after weeks of cold indifference, he reaches out to Orson.

Orson stands just, fractionally, out of reach, and raises an eyebrow.

Galen leans forward, nearly overbalancing from his stool in his effort to reach Orson.

“ You.. Krennic.. You've got to help. I've .. I.. Orson.”

At the sound of his given name on Galens lips again, he nearly smiles, nearly.

Instead he raises his other eyebrow.

“Yes?” He strives to sound disinterested, channels the long weeks that Galen wouldn't even look at him, remembers his own misery and despair, even as his heart bleeds at the misery on Galens brown eyes.

“Please, Orson, you're the only one here that I can trust.”

Orson smiles.


End file.
